


Give me reasons (we should be complete)

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Again, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin cries over a kettle, dissociation probably, spoilers for ep 159: the last, was doing some Gay Yearning at 2am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Set between episodes 159 and 160. They travel up to Scotland. Martin cries over a kettle.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	Give me reasons (we should be complete)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u prem for the prompt, thank u gabe for the dopamine, thank u horny worms for throwing me back into tma brain rot. im posting this at 5am please forgive the bad words

The drive up had been. Alright. Martin could remember leaving the Lonely, smell of salt and sand clinging to his every cell. The resto was a blur, and he'd only come to when Jon had reached over and gripped his hand when they hit the M1.  
"Martin?" His voice was soft, like he was talking to some... some wild animal. He hated it. It was the same voice his mother had used, when she couldn't seperate him and the memories of his father.  
"Don't." His retort came out far sharper than he wanted. Jon just gripped his hand tighter, eyes leaving the road for just a second to cast over him. "Don't use that tone. Please. I-I'm fine." there was a quaver to his last statement. He cleared his throat, sat up straighter, tried again. "I'm fine."  
Jon smiled. Squeezed his hand before relaxing, but not letting go.  
"I know. I just realised I'd been talking and you weren't hearing."  
The sky is overcast. It always seemed to be, nowadays. Perhaps it'll rain later, he thought, watching the houses race by. A chuckle comes from Jon, and he turns back.  
"Yes, I rather think it will. Hopefully it'll be dry in Scotland, for at least a few days."  
Ah. Thinking out loud again. Hold on, _Sc_ -  
"Scotland?" He inquires. Scotland? Why there? why not-  
A gentle squeeze to his hand. "Daisy has- had," he pauses for a second, staring out the front windshield. It's starting to spit. He shakes his head, an almost imperceptible movement if Martin hadn't been watching so closely. He takes a breath before continuing. "A safe house. A few, actually, dotted around the country. But the further away from London we can get, the better. The- the safer-" A squeeze to his hand again. "-We'll be."

They stop at the Trowell service station. They eat lukewarm fries on their bed (Jon gets some veggie burger, but doesn't seem too keen on it, picking st it while they watch _Have I Got News For You_. Martin wants to scream at the false normalcy.)  
They go to sleep. Turns out he'd told Jon where his houseshare was, and they'd gone and packed up a month's worth of clothes using the hiking bag he'd gotten when he turned seventeen, before his mother got really sick. He was planning on travelling around Europe before he went to university. And then he was thinking about his mother. Or, he was, at least, until Jon mumbled something in his sleep that sounded suspiciously like "shut up, I can hear you" and wrapped his arm around Martin's torso, burying his head under his shoulder. He froze, worried he'd crush Jon, fragile as he was, and lifted his arm. A few moments of rearranging later, and Jon was comfortably nestled in the crook of his shoulder, breaths puffing across Martin's throat.  
He feels it then, the warmth radiating from his body, chasing away the gritty chill that still swam in his bones.  
He wasn't alone.

The house was nice, all things considered. A little dusty, but that was to be expected.  
Daisy didn't have an electric kettle. ( _The horror!_ He'd cried. _The scandal! Jon! There's an Argos the town over and you bloody bet I'm marching in there first thing tomorrow and sorting out this awful situation! I can't believe she'd leave us so ill-prepared!_ )  
However, to her credit, there was a small pile of dry wood stocked inside. And the kitchen wasn't totally bare, the spice rack was full and only the paprika had really been used. There were a few cans of beans in the cupboards. They'd have to make a stop at the local store on their way back, it seems.

Martin was washing the dishes. (the layer of dust on every surface and item meant he was going to have to spend the next few days deep cleaning this entire place.) His phone was on top of the fridge, playing the lofi/hip-hop beats for relaxing and studying... Thing. He didn't really understand the words they had for all the different videos anymore. Point is, it was soothing, and helped him get his work done.  
"Aha!" A thump from the cluttered dining room. Boxes half-filled with bric-a-brac were strewn about. Martin wondered where she'd gotten all these things from.  
Jon burst into the kitchen, socked feet sliding somewhat against the smooth wooden floor. He was brandishing something... Shiny?  
"Martin!" He was grinning, and thrust the object into his wet, somewhat soapy hands, "I found a kettle! For your tea?"  
There was a pause. Martin looked down at the camping kettle, then back up to Jon, then to the kettle. There was suddenly a strange noise coming from somewhere, a low-pitched warble. "Martin? God- Martin I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"

He was crying, he realised with some passive suprise. Fat tears that splashed onto the silver metal.  
"God, I-I'm sorry," he tries to laugh, but it comes out more watery than anything. "I don't know what's come over me. It's just!" He sobbed. "It's just been so much. Sometimes it's like I'm still there and this is just a memory and I'll disappear any second and-"  
A cool hand smooths over his forehead. He opens his eyes, not realising he'd closed them. Jon smiles gently, easing the kettle from his tight grip, and reaching past him to fill it from the tap. He touches his hand to Martin's face, cupping his cheek and smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone, reassuring. Before turning and walking the few steps to the hob. There's a few seconds of quiet muttering as he manages how to get it working, and a clank as he sets the kettle on top. Martin watches every movement, every light frown as he twists the wrong knob, then twists it back. He watches as Jon turns back to him, the quiet music weaving around them, filling the space between them, and suddenly Martin feels so far away. "Hey." His voice, insistent. "Hey. Martin. I'm here. You're here. We're together." Jon reaches out, grabs Martin's hand and wraps it around his wrist. His pulse, a steady thump-thump that grounds him. Martin releases a breath he didn't realise he was holding. "Come here." Jon says again, tugging Martin closer.

The top of Jon's head barely comes shoulder level, but it's not uncomfortable. Jon's arms are wrapped around his waist, an echo from the night previous. His hand smooths up and down his back. They're swaying gently, in time with the music as it flows around them, wrapping them in the gentle hold of something new.  
He closes his eyes, rests his cheek on the top of Jon's head, feeling suddenly warmer than he has in. Well. In months.  
Maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @nureyevspetrats on twitter and tumblr. stay hydrated. or else (bernie sanders i am no longer asking meme)


End file.
